High overhead, the sun tipped over its zenith, beginning the long, slow descent to its rest beyond the horizon. It glowed glum, heavy in the sky. Under its halting gaze, Esadora held the Fire Queen aloft. The others stirred, shaking off the tinkle of charmed steel as the shuriken fell away beneath the Worldkin’s indomitable power. They watched with wide eyes.

“No!” Fayne snarled, clawing at the magic vice constricting her throat, “NO! You can’t…!”

“I can, and I did, dearie. Did you really think that a Mor’Torquem would kill me? That the Shackles of Soul would hold me indefinitely? You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

“But… you were… trapped… tortured…!” Fayne gasped, desperation tinting her words.

“I’ll admit the torture was an inconvenience,” Esadora mused, “And it did take me rather longer than I had anticipated to unravel the spell of the Mor’Torquem... But, at least, you had a chance to play out your little charade.” She paused, raised her eyebrows pityingly. “Your penchant for games is the reason you never win. You think you’re so clever, dearie… And that’s why you find yourself where you currently are.”

She tightened her grip. Fayne’s fingers flicked violently, her magic sparking in erratic fits, breath rattling. Her face contorted with hateful fury as she struggled against the Worldkin’s magic – like an insect against an avalanche.

But Esadora abruptly set her down, lessened the pressure on her windpipe. Fayne drew great gouts of air, rubbing at her lacerated neck, tears of pain rolling down her pinched cheeks.

“Don’t worry, dearie,” Esadora gave a feline smile, “Today is not your last day.”

“You… offer… mercy?” Fayne managed, her surprise undoing the fury on her features.

Esadora laughed – long and loud – as if her suggestion were ludicrous.

“Today is not your last day,” she repeated, circling her like a fox with a mouse, “Because you killed my daughter in cold blood. You tried to kill my granddaughter. I offer you no mercy...”

She reached the front of her again, and Fayne paled beneath her wild and wicked smile.

“...Oh, no. You will live out the rest of your miserable days in untold agony – doused and drenched and kept with just enough air to leave breath in your fiery lungs.”

Fayne quailed. “Esadora, darling, please…”

The Worldkin raised an eyebrow, allowing her the grace to finish, but Fayne found she had no words to redeem herself. Esadora’s eyes snapped, lips twisted as she opened her mouth to give the command to take her away.

But the Firekin shimmered. Face alight with surprise, Fayne melted, dispersing on the breeze like a shadow fleeing candlelight. Esadora snatched at her with a bright flash, but she was ephemeral, borne away into oblivion. The Worldkin snarled, spun; the Shadowkin was gone, too.

Thwarted magic sparked high. “God-damned Shadowkin!”

“Grandma!” Jordan exclaimed, limping forward with Norae at her shoulder, “What happened? Where did she go?”

Esadora turned to her, mouth set grim. “That’ll teach me to harp on about games.” But she opened her arms, engulfed Jordan in a suffocating hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay, child!”

Jordan pushed back, tears in her eyes. “I’m okay? Are you kidding me? God, Grandma, I’ve never been so worried in my life! How did you do that?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Esadora confessed with a gentle smile, “But I had good reason to make sure I succeeded.” She cupped Jordan’s face. “Try not to ever find yourself shackled or collared, dearie. It is not an easy magic to undo. You need a lifetime of experience to even make the attempt.”

Jordan nodded, and her smile stretched to bursting as she hugged Esadora again. Over her grandmother’s shoulder, she caught Norae’s eye. The Callkin had moved to greet her father; she leaned against Nalvadian, his great arm squeezing her tight.

“Happy reunions all around,” Nerys commented darkly.

She stood off, holding herself on the edge of present company, her power humming at the ready.

Esadora fixed her with an expressionless stare. “Nerys Dur’Borran,” she said, “Still alive, are you?”

Nerys curled her lip. “I am in no mood, dear.”

“Quite a piece of magic you pulled off, there,” Esadora remarked, unruffled.

Nerys folded her arms. “Stranger things.”

The Worldkin stepped away from Jordan, giving her shoulders a quick, reassuring squeeze. She drew herself up to her full height, standing before Nerys with her hands folded. Silent, Calyx watched.

“We live in a world of strange things,” Esadora mused. She cast her gaze east, and the light of the dying sun reflected in her steely gaze. “Not least of which is the manner of the endings… Time is nearly up.”

Nerys’ eyes sparked, hot as coals. “Do you always ramble, dear?”

Esadora tilted her head. “The long and short of it is, tomorrow will be a new day – a strange day. And you have… choices to make. Better ones, I hope.”

She turned away, tucked an arm over Jordan’s shoulders, and began the trek to the palace. The others followed, gingerly skirting craters and corpses, and the gates swung wide to admit them.

Brooding, Nerys was left alone.

Almost.

“She has a point,” Calyx said quietly. She moved up to stand beside the Dark Lat’Nemele, gazing at the bleeding sunset.

“Hardly,” Nerys sniped, scowling at the broken star, “Has no one noticed? It’s the end of the bloody world.”

“Not quite.”

Nerys turned to her, expression guarded. “What do you want, Calyx?”

Calyx did not look round. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?” Nerys snorted, “A stupid decision on the spur of the moment? Mmm, yes… I helped saved your life – so now you can die in flaming agony along with the rest of us. You’re welcome, dear.”

Calyx faced her at last. “Why did you leave, when we found that dagger?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Nerys drew a breath, released it explosively. “I spent time with them – the Shadowkin… I know what they are capable of, I… had to go.”

Calyx scowled. “To protect Fayne.”

“To protect you.”

They regarded each other for a long moment. Nerys dropped her gaze first.

“Fayne has a long-standing relationship with Tabitha, the Scion of the Shadowkin,” she sighed. “If I had not been there – an option with less consequences – she would have unleashed their full army instead. You saw how Tabitha scooped Fayne out from under Esadora’s very nose – they are infinitely dangerous, Calyx. Esadora may be able to combat them, but she was incapacitated. How was I to know she’d cast off the Mor’Torquem all on her own?”

“Never underestimate that woman,” Calyx said darkly.

“Indeed.”

Calyx reached out, tentative, and took her hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could have talked about it before you went rushing off…”

“There was no time,” Nerys replied, thumbing the back of her fingers with soft strokes. “Tabitha had already been, and gone, by the time I arrived.”

“And… killing me? Was that part of some grand plan, too?”

“I’ve already told you that was an accident, dear.”

“Well,” Calyx smiled, “At least we know who won.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Nerys frowned. “If it hadn’t been for that damned Airkin…”

“What happened to him, by the way?”

“Nothing good.”

Calyx laughed. She laced her arms around Nerys’ waist, looked up from beneath heavy lashes. Around them, magic flitted like fireflies.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Calyx murmured, watching them.

“As you are,” Nerys whispered, bright power reflecting in her bottomless eyes.

Calyx sighed as the dark Lat’Nemele pulled her close, and magic bloomed around them, rivalling the setting sun. Soft and sweet, their lips met, a tentative promise of hope for tomorrow.